


Proposition

by CaesariDiffidimus



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Groping, M/M, Non-Consensual Groping, Prostitution, Troy needs a hug, fear the walking dead, nick is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 04:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14608971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaesariDiffidimus/pseuds/CaesariDiffidimus
Summary: Nick gets drunk and wants to bring some prostitutes back to their apartment at the Bazaar, Troy rather not.





	Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> This could easily be viewed as a continuation of my other (first) "Trick" fanfic, even though it's technically not. Either could get chapters added on, but likely if any of them do, it will be this one.
> 
> Not Beta'd.

Chapter One

 

Nick and Troy sat at their small, wobbly table amid the Bazaar’s din, and all that implied. Troy seemed tense, Nick thought; nervous. Nick’s internal dialogue joked that it was because there were so many Mexicans around, and the Otto’s being unabashed racists, the fact likely made such a nationalist feel uncomfortable. Nick had to admit to himself though, that he had never heard Troy say anything racist, though this much couldn’t be said for his father. Troy being a racist wasn’t a difficult destination to get to when you took in the fact he was raised by a racist, secluded and sheltered from the world, fed lies and dangerous narratives, and fear mongered to perceive people in a very specific way, and as the proverbial cherry on top, he was desperate for validation from his father, and needing validation from others, especially family, is a weakness to anyone.

   Nick watched Troy fidget in his seat, he wasn’t paying any attention to Nick at the moment; his eyes darting from one passerby to the next, so it was easy to sit back and observe. Usually the other boy was so vigilante and watchful, and Nick wasn’t about to waste the moment. Troy’s knee bounced, foot tapped, teeth gnawed distractedly at the inside of his cheek, his thumb periodically making its way up to his mouth, sometimes sliding across his bottom lip absently, occasionally biting at the corner of his nail. Nick couldn’t resist entertaining the idea that Troy was—kind of cute. Aesthetically, of course, but more than that, when he was nervous like this, he was vulnerable, which was so out of character that it was difficult _not_ to find the lapse in self-preservation endearing. Nick let a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth and hoped Troy didn’t spot it.

   A lean, attractive waitress made her way over to them, her hips swaying, skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat, Nick thought she looked absolutely ravishing, and thought to tell her, but the moment he made physical contact with her, she checked said physical touch with her own, much brasher touch; shoving his hand away from her hip. Troy’s eyes darted from the waitress to Nick’s hand on her hip and back up.

   “Two tequilas, and something brewed,” Nick ordered, flashing a smile at the waitress before she turned away to leave.

   “I don’t drink!” Troy hollered after her, but she made no show of hearing him. “I don’t drink,” he repeated, this time to Nick.

   “You’re drinking tonight.” Nick wasn’t looking at him when he spoke, his eyes were still transfixed on the woman’s backside. Troy bit his lip and followed his gaze to the woman’s body until Nick’s eyes finally snapped back to their table, drumming his fingers on the dry wood a couple times before looking up at Troy. “Jesus, chill the fuck out, they’re just Mexicans,” Nick laughed. Troy’s eyes widened, his mouth slightly parting in shock, and Nick laughed harder, kicking the other boy’s legs playfully from under the table.

   Troy looked from side to side to make sure no one had heard Nick say that. His gaze dropped when he felt safe that no one had. He resorted his attention to a pit in the table, picking at it thoughtfully. “It’s not…just I don’t like this,” Troy waved his hand in the air, elbow perched on the end of the table. His thumb made its way back to his mouth nervously as he made eye contact with Nick briefly before looking back at the pitted table. “People—crowds, I guess,” he corrected, almost to himself.

   Nick made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth, but made no sound, as if to say he understood. The death of Troy’s family, and the falling of his sanctuary, had made Troy into a much less guarded character, Nick thought. He couldn’t imagine Troy being like this back when his dad was alive. Nick felt momentarily bad for assuming his nervousness was out of hatred and racism, when the reality was the other boy had a genuine fear.

 

Troy leaned against the wall outside El Matarife’s tavern, Nick had gone inside to pick up his stash, but Troy hadn’t felt like entering the muggy speak-easy. When Nick emerged again, Troy regretted that decision, because the younger boy came out with two women of whom Troy did not recognize. Both were Mexican, both looked high, their faces smeared with days old make up caked on their sweaty faces. Troy had to restrain himself from reacted physically to how much he was repulsed by them. He supposed they likely weren’t ugly women, but right now they didn’t look appealing at all.

   Nick sauntered over to him, clearly feeling the effects of whatever he had taken in El Matarife’s. Troy grinned wildly at him, and once they were close enough, one of the women reached out to touch Troy, but he backed away, out of her reach, and her hand fell clumsily to her thigh. “This is—these are,” Nick began, his speech slow and sharp. “Sophia, Az…Az something,” he finished lazily. The women didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t care, that he didn’t know their names. “We’re gonna go back to the room,” Nick announced, his eyes leaving Troy’s, and searching behind him for the path back home.

   Troy grabbed Nick’s sleeve. “What are you doing?”

   Nick frowned at him. “I’m high—I wanna fuck. They also wanna fuck. Matchy matchy.” Nick laughed a strange, muffled laugh Troy hadn’t heard before. Nick attempted to pull away again but Troy kept ahold of his sleeve. Through Nick’s haze he must have still seen the desperation in Troy’s eyes because he stopped, sighed, took his arm from around one of the women and wrapped his lithe hand around Troy’s wrist. Troy tried to resist weakly, but Nick laughed him off and pulled him along.

   “Nick, this isn’t a good idea—Nick it’s not…” but he was cut off by the firm hand of one of them women on his clothed junk. Troy audibly yelped and pulled away.

   The woman who had groped him, looped a finger in his belt and pulled him towards her. He looked to Nick, panicked, for help, but the other boy laughed, and pulled the second woman in close to his side, his thigh between her legs. The first woman pulled Troy back toward her, slid behind him, and propelled him forward with her hips, he pulled away from her again, eyes hectically trying to find Nick’s.

   Nick, a wild grin plastered on his face, seemed to move the whole group forward with ease until they were in front of their small room. Nick ushered the women in with a theatrical waving of his arm, they giggled and tripped over themselves playfully, until both landed on Nick’s bed. Troy stood outside, arms crossed, thumbing the tanned skin of his forearm nervously. He pushed his weight from one foot the other, but otherwise did not move, and made no attempt to move. Nick waved a hand at him, gesturing that he also enter, but he still didn’t budge. Troy looked from the women to Nick and shook his head. If Nick weren’t so inebriated he might have noticed the other boys panic, or perhaps he did and just didn’t care. The woman were half naked now, fondling each other on the bed, giggling at Troy’s inabilities.

   “Le gustan los hombres,” the one who copped a feel said, and both her and her friend laughed and nodded to each other.

   “Tal vez puedan follarse entre sí!” The other girl laughed. Seemingly barely able to hold it together after that, they both were giggling and hitting each other playfully, nearly falling off the bed.

   Nick smiled at them as if he understood; he knew some Spanish but not much, not enough. Nick rolled his eyes and lurched out of the doorway, faster than Troy thought was possible in his state, grabbed Troy by his shirt, and hauled him into the room with him. The girls laughed at this as well, or perhaps they had never stopped laughing.

   The room was muggy, its air stagnant, Troy felt the irritating tingle of sweat all over his body, and wasn’t sure anymore if it was from the heat or his errant anxiety. He shuffled backward but not quick enough, one of the girls reached out and grabbed ahold of his belt and pulled him toward them, he tried to pull away but he didn’t want to hurt her and cause a scene. Nick laughed and began to kiss down one of the women’s neck and chest, his eye contact never breaking with Troy’s, like he was teasing him—taunting him. A pit formed in Troy’s stomach, pinching and twisting its way up into his throat. The girl’s hand wandered, grabbing ahold of his member through his pants. Troy leapt away from her, startled, scrambling to cover himself with his hands. Nick laughed jeeringly at him, and Troy could feel it like a stab in the gut; twisting.

   “Nicky,” Troy breathed out, his eyes stinging, vision narrow, but Nick was either too inebriated to notice, or noticed and didn’t care, because he just grinned mischievously and motioned Troy over with the slow opening and closing of a thing fingered hand. “Nicky, I don’t…don’t wanna do this,” he swallowed hard, wringing his hands.

   A shadow passed over Nick’s face, and a look of irritation pinching his pupils. Troy involuntarily flinched but stepped forward nonetheless. A victorious smile tugged at the corner of Nick’s mouth, and he reached out a hand and tugged the older boy forward. Troy made a strangled whimpering sound, which seemed to only propel Nick forward. Suddenly the girl’s hands were on him as well, sliding up his shirt, dragging their hot fingers over his goose fleshed skin. They pulled at him until he was on the bed with them, pushing and shuffling him until their faces loomed over him like hungry wolves, inspecting their carrion.

   Hot, sticky hands explored his body, he tried to, in vain, to ignore all but Nick’s. Maybe he could pretend the women weren’t here. But he didn’t have the chance, because suddenly Nick was sitting up, kissing one of the women, hands moving to remove her skirt, fingers exploring. He pushed her down on the bed, and Troy’s stomach fell, he felt sick and too hot. He watched Nick so intently that he almost didn’t catch a hand sliding down his jeans, he caught the girl by the wrist to stop her, but once he looked her in the eye his conviction faltering. By no means did he want to participate in anything with her, but neither did he have the metal to boldly demand she leave him alone. He was afraid of making a scene, of embarrassing Nick—of angering him, and a more selfish part of him feared verbal retribution should he refuse her: the inevitable questioning of his sexuality, and therein, generally manliness. The last months events had found him weak and confused and he was unsure he couldn’t handle any of that.

   “Kiss her,” a voice cut through his panic, with a tone that suggested it wasn’t the first time they’d said that. Troy looked up at Nick and shook his head. Nick grinned “You don’t like it? Not your type?” he jeered, and the girls laughed. The one straddling him grabbed his member through his jeans again and squeezed uncomfortably, remarking with a smirk how _soft_ he was. Troy choked back a sob and looked to Nick, begging. But Nick misconstrued the meaning, and instead of providing reprieve, and asking the girl’s to leave, he reached over and pressed his narrow hand to Troy’s belly, Troy watched him in shocked, eyes wide, locked on the younger man’s flesh against his own. Nick grinned wildly, and without looking away from Troy’s ashen face, he slid his hand down the trembling boy’s stomach and under his now unbuttoned pants.

   He couldn’t breathe. There was bile in the back of his throat, he was gonna be sick, he needed to vomit. It was too hot here, too hot in the room, too many people, his skin felt like a thousand tiny needles were pressing into him slowly, but nonetheless painfully. The hand explored further, pressing a finger against his entrance, and that was finally enough—finally too much. Troy let out a choked sob and jolted up, scrambling out of the bed, he needed to get out of here. He fell to the dirt floor on all fours, and hurriedly stumbled to his feet, rushing out of the small apartment. Nick’s amused, mocking laugh following him out. He barely made it outside the door before falling to his knees against the flat’s façade and vomiting by the stoop. Passersby yelped in surprise and jumped out of the way

Troy sat there until he could hear the distinct sounds of drunken copulation. Even after Nick’s cruelty, Troy couldn’t help but hope the younger man would come out and inspect his travel companion. He didn’t.

Troy needed somewhere to go.

 


End file.
